


Mothers

by enthusiasmgirl



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Friendship, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl/pseuds/enthusiasmgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt and Foggy both have complicated relationships with their mothers. It's one of the things that bonds them together, even if neither of them know that when they meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mother's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DJClawson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJClawson/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's got a hole inside of him where he knows a mother's love is supposed to be. But time, friendship and family help make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't include more avocado friendship fluff in my last fic, so I had to make up for it with this. I'm tempted to turn this into a series exploring some other MCU superheroes relationships with their mothers because there is definitely not enough of it out there. We will see.

Matt had always hated Mother's Day. From as early as he could remember, it was difficult for him. He would watch the other kids on his block hug their mothers, see the signs and card displays in storefronts, and feel a sharp burning sting deep down in his chest.

Of course, the pain was always there. But the other 364 days of the year it was dulled, hazy, a constant companion that Matt had learned to live with. Mother's Day made the ache grow and the fire spread. It reminded him that there was a hole inside of him where a mother's love should be.

One Mother's Day, when he was six, his teachers had noticed him sitting motionless and quiet while the other children buzzed with activity around him, preparing their Mother's Day cards. They had encouraged Matt to make one for his dad, which hadn't sounded like a bad idea. Matt had thrown himself into the project, wanting to get it just right. It was bright blue (Matt had avoided the pinks the other kids were using) and it had a picture of a boxing glove on it.

And the teachers were right. It did make him feel better about not having a mother. Until he gave it to his dad that Sunday morning. Matt knew it was a mistake when his dad got a faraway look in his eyes and accepted it without a word. No thank you, no hug, no smile of gratitude. Just silence and sadness.

They never talked about her. Matt knew that she had died when he was born, and he knew that his dad loved her, but otherwise she was just gone. A few pictures, but no gravestone that he had ever visited, no outpouring of memories shared by relatives or friends. She had no family, and all that she had left Matt was his dad. Matt knew he should be grateful for that, because he loved his dad more than anything, but sometimes it just made him hate her for leaving them. He knew that he shouldn't feel that way, that she hadn't chosen to die, but he felt the way he felt.

As he got older, the hatred only grew.

His accident left him unable to take care of his dad properly, unable to take care of himself even. He wished that he had someone, anyone else, to lighten his burden. But there was no one.

Sometimes at night, when his dad was at the gym and he was alone for dinner, he'd sit on the stoop outside and listen to the sounds of real families enjoying each others company. Without his sight, it was easy for him to listen to the softly spoken maternal love emanating from so many of the homes in the neighborhood and imagine that the inquiries, compliments and encouragements he heard were directed at him. "How was your day today?" his pretend mothers would ask. "I told you you'd do well on that test," they'd say. Sometimes, if he were really lucky, he'd overhear a gentle lullaby or an "I love you so much."

When his dad was gone, he took solace in the fact that at least he had the nuns. They were good women, kind and thoughtful. More importantly, from the moment he arrived at St. Agnes it was like they were able to see right through him, to recognize the hole inside of him. Matt appreciated the efforts that they made to try to fill it. They befriended him and provided him with a loving support he had never experienced before. They taught him to play the organ, and encouraged him to take larger roles in the church services and to assist them with their charitable work and community outreach. But there was only so much they could do. And he couldn't stay at St. Agnes forever.

By the time he left St. Agnes, the seething hatred had turned into a empty longing that was always with him, that sat in the pit of his chest and told him that he was unloved, alone, unworthy. So much so that he sometimes forgot that everyone didn't live that way. Which was never a problem until he moved in with Foggy.

Foggy loved his mother. More than anyone Matt had ever met. And she loved her son. The problem for Matt was how often they expressed that love and how they chose to do it.

The first time Matt overheard a conversation between Foggy and his mother, they had only been living together a day. Matt couldn't help but eavesdrop. Their dorm room was very small, and phone conversations were very loud when they were that close to him. And this conversation was long.

Foggy's mother's voice was warm and affectionate, and Matt listened as she not only checked in on her son, but asked for a breakdown of his entire first few days at school.

"Awww, mom," Foggy said, a whine in his voice, "I just left you last week! You miss me that much already?"

"You know I do, sweetheart," she said. "It's just not the same without you here."

"I miss you too," Foggy said back. And Matt knew how much he meant it.

The pair talked for hours. Foggy shared details with his mother that Matt didn't realize anyone shared with their mother. She called once a week at least, usually more, and through those calls Matt learned more about his friend and the goings on at his father's hardware store than he could have possibly otherwise known. And Matt found it so easy to close his eyes and imagine that it was him having the conversation, just as he had done on his stoop so many many years earlier.

She sent care packages. Freshly baked cookies, and new underwear, and spare toothbrushes in case Foggy forgot to change his regularly. And Matt always got a stinging pain in his chest, wishing that they were for him.

One day, after he and Foggy had been living together for several months, Foggy offered to pass the phone to Matt. "Huh?" Matt asked.

"She wants to talk to you," Foggy said.

"Why?" Matt asked.

"Because she's an old busybody who needs to know everything about me," Foggy replied, "and since I've told her so much about you she wants to get to know you." Matt knew from what he had overheard that the busybody part was correct.

The conversation was only a few minutes. She asked him how he was doing. He said fine. She thanked him for taking such good care of her son. Told him he sounded like a very studious and upstanding young man. Told him how sorry she was to hear what had happened to him.

Towards the end of the conversation, she said something that Matt would never forget. "I want you to know that my Foggy has a good heart. And he's let you into it. And if he's done that, well then as far as I'm concerned you're one of mine now. So don't hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything, okay?" He stuttered an okay back, a lump forming in the back of his throat.

"And Matt?" she asked.

"Uh huh?" he said, unable to form words suddenly.

"I expect to see you over the holidays. Don't you worry about the space. We've got a cot with your name on it, and there's always more than enough food. You take care of yourself, now."

"Thank you, I will," Matt replied, handing the phone back to Foggy in a daze.

Foggy finished up his conversation, and when it ended he looked over to see Matt laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"She's pretty great, isn't she?" Foggy asked.

"She is," Matt said, honestly. "She invited me for the holidays."

"I know," Foggy said. "I asked her to."

Matt didn't know what to say. He just knew that his heart felt like it might explode from his chest. He felt Foggy flop down onto his bed next to him.

"How did you know?" he asked his friend. "That I miss her. I've never told anyone."

"Because of course you miss her," Foggy said. "She was your mom. You don't need to have met her to miss her, Matt. And Everyone deserves to know what it's like to have a mom. So I figure I'm okay sharing." Matt could only smile at that.

From that day forward, the care packages that arrived at their dorm room always had something in them just for Matt. There were even presents for him under the Nelson family Christmas tree.

And Matt stopped hating Mother's Day. in fact, he looked forward to it every year. Because it meant getting to pick out the most lavish gift he could think of to send to Mrs. Nelson. And it meant overhearing her ask to speak to him after she'd finished talking to Foggy, and hearing her praise him and tell him he'd gone overboard. And it meant getting laid into by Foggy about making him look like a bad son for only sending a card and flowers.

And the hole inside of him that fed the voice telling him that he didn't have a mother, that he didn't have a family, never went away. But it got easier. Because Matt finally understood the thing he had been missing. He had Foggy.


	2. Rosalind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy's been keeping a secret from Matt, one that leads to Matt having to consider his friend in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here's the thing about this part of the story. It's a TV universe/comics universe fusion. If you're worried about spoilers for the TV show, I can't say for sure that that is what this story is because they may choose to go entirely another way.
> 
> However, the story of Foggy's relationship with his mother in the comics universe is really fascinating to me, and I wanted to write a speculative fic regarding how they might introduce her into the TV universe that could be read by newbies.
> 
> You don't need to know anything about the comics to read this. But it does delve into a comic book plot point and potentially touch on stuff the show may get into at a later point. So just consider that before you read it.

The conversation going on in the cramped third floor room was muffled as Matt reached the front steps of the building, but he could tell even from outside that it was tense. He resisted the urge to focus his heightened sense of hearing on the noise and eavesdrop. Since Foggy had learned about his abilities and his life as Daredevil, Matt had been trying to accommodate his friend's request for privacy and discretion whenever possible. But he couldn't help but catch the tail end of the harsh words exchanged as he entered the office. "I'm not talking about this right now, okay? I told you I'll see you later and I will!" he heard Foggy say before he hung up his phone abruptly.

"Good morning, Karen," Matt said distractedly as she handed him a coffee.

"Foggy's in," Karen said, "He's just on the phone. He's been in there for a while, actually. I bet it's his mother."

Matt smiled even though he knew she was wrong. "They do talk a lot," Matt said.

"I think it's adorable that he loves her so much," said Karen. "My mom... well, it's complicated." She left it at that. Matt could tell that she didn't continue because it wasn't easy for her to talk about.

The pair were interrupted when Foggy's door opened and he appeared. Matt was curious about who was on the phone, and Foggy's heart was beating wildly, but he knew better than to ask. Foggy was acutely sensitive to the possibility that Matt could now spy on him, and so it wasn't worth the fight. Besides, he trusted Foggy to tell him if anything was wrong of his own volition. They rarely kept anything from each other for very long, especially now that they had laid all of their secrets on the table.

"Great!" said Foggy, clapping his hands together with a forced enthusiasm. "You're here! Let's get to work on the Clappison case, shall we?"

As they worked throughout the morning, Matt was surprised by the fact that whatever was bothering Foggy didn't go away. If anything, he became more tense with each passing moment. It was distracting to Matt to listen to the way his friend drummed his fingers nervously on the table and tapped his legs against his chair, to smell the sweat and hear the quickened breaths as Foggy tried to manage his anxiety. He kept checking his phone. Matt suspected that he was getting text messages but that he'd muted his notifications.

As the day continued, Matt tried to let it go, but when Karen stepped away to make coffee he knew that he needed to find out what was wrong. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"What?" said Foggy. "Yeah. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well," Matt said, choosing his words cautiously, "it could have something to do with the phone call I caught the tail end of earlier. It sounded like trouble."

"Were you eavesdropping on me? Seriously, Matt, what the hell?" Foggy raged at him, his voice still lowered so that Karen wouldn't overhear. "I told you before that you don't get to do that anymore, alright?"

This was the reaction Matt had been hoping to avoid. "I'm just worried about you," Matt said. "Someone's texting you, too. Is something going on?"

"It's none of your business," Foggy said angrily. "Can you just leave it? Please? It's nothing you need to worry about, I promise. It's personal." He looked at his watch. "I have to go anyway." He stood up to leave.

"Wait," asked Matt. "What?"

"I have dinner plans," Foggy said. "I meant to tell you. I can't get out of them. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He left, saying goodbye to Karen on his way out.

Matt tried to forget it, just like Foggy had said to, but he couldn't. The thought that something serious was bothering his friend sat like a hard weight in the pit of his stomach as he and Karen continued to work on their case into the evening. When he finally left the office, he resolved to stop by Foggy's place and make sure that he was alright.

He was halfway up the steps to Foggy's apartment when he heard it. The same muffled, tense conversation. And this time, he decided that he wanted to know what was going on. He crept silently closer to the door, listening.

"Please, could you just leave it?" he heard Foggy ask, begging.

"No I will not leave it," he heard the other person say. Surprisingly, Matt immediately identified the speaker as a woman. An older woman whose tone was definitely not pleased. "I pulled every string I could think of to get you that offer from Lanman and Zack. God knows, you'd never have been offered that position based on your own effort, I mean look at you! You present yourself like a frat boy playing grown up, Franklin. How many times have I given you the name of my hairdresser and you still won't go in for a proper cut and style? It's ridiculous!"

"Rosalind..." Foggy tried to interrupt, but he was cut off.

"No! I'm not finished, young man," the woman, who Matt now knew was named Rosalind, said sternly. "I called in favours for you, I did what I could and you swan off to... to what? Open some practice where the sign on the door is written in marker? That's not a law firm, that's a waste of time."

"Why?" said Foggy, finally able to get a word in, "Because it's not what you would do? Because it's not steel and glass and raking in millions to defend some corporation against legitimate charges that it's products are unsafe? Or protecting the people at the top so that the little guy gets screwed while I sit on cable news networks and brag about it?"

"Is this where you tell me that you have no interest in being me, Franklin, because we both know that's not true or you wouldn't be standing here, would you?" Rosalind's voice was cold and scolding. "It's fine. I'd just rather you would have made your intentions clearer and been a butcher after all if you were only going to get my hopes up and disappoint me anyway."

The door to Foggy's apartment swung open, and Rosalind emerged, almost knocking Matt over before stopping herself. She straightened and Matt could sense her staring at him. He was surprised to find himself intimidated, even though he couldn't see her.

"You must be Matthew Murdock," she said icily.

"Ma'am," was all Matt could say in response.

Rosalind leaned in, and Matt nearly retched on the smell of her expensive perfume and heavy makeup. "From everything I've heard, you're a hell of a lawyer, Matthew. Too bad you're also a terrible influence on my son. I hope we don't meet again."

And then she was gone, her high-heeled footsteps echoing in the stairwell. And Matt wasn't sure what just happened, but he knew that Foggy was not happy with him. "What are you doing here?" Foggy asked.

Matt knew he should apologize, but he couldn't think of anything else except what Rosalind had just said. "Her son?" he asked, confused.

"I told you it was none of your business. Go home, Matt," Foggy said sadly, and the door slammed shut.

The next morning, when Matt stepped into the office, he wasn't sure what to expect. He didn't even know if Foggy would be there. He was relieved when Karen handed him his morning coffee as usual, but disheartened when she squeezed his shoulder sadly. "Did something happen?" she asked.

"Why do you ask?" Matt wondered.

"Because Foggy came in really hungover. He hasn't spoken to me all morning," she said. "He went right to his desk, and I've just heard moaning coming from the other side of the door. Is he okay?"

"I'll find out," Matt said, moving to open the Foggy's office door. It was locked. He knocked. "Foggy?" he said, "Please, would you let me in?"

"Fiiiine," he heard from the other side as Foggy got up and unlocked the door. "It's not like I have a say in anything with you anyway, apparently." Matt followed him into the room and closed the door behind him. Foggy returned to sit at his desk, laying his head down on it and moaning.

Matt didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. Finally, Foggy sat up. "Well, out with it!" he said.

"Out with what?" Matt asked.

"I don't know," said Foggy. "The demanding questions? The smug self-satisfied condescension of knowing that you aren't the only one of us keeping a big secret? Give me something, Murdock. I'm dying here!"

"I wish I could help you out with a reaction here, Foggy, but I can't react to something I don't understand," Matt said. "Rosalind is your mother?" he asked.

"Yes," said Foggy.

"But you have a mother. Who you love," Matt said. "Who I love."

"Yes," said Foggy.

"So what am I missing here, Foggy?" Matt asked, settling into the chair in front of Foggy's desk so that he was sitting across from him.

Finally, Foggy looked up. "It's Rosalind Sharpe."

"Wait," asked Matt. "Why do I know that name?"

"Because I've got three of her books on the shelf behind me," Foggy said. "One of which was mandatory reading when we were at Columbia studying corporate law."

"I remember her now," Matt said. "Her book was awful. It was the worst kind of notoriety-seeking, immoral corporate garbage. It made me so angry that when we finished reading it, I made a little ceremony out of throwing it out," he chuckled to himself. "Wait," he said, realizing what he had just said, "that's your mother?"

"My biological mother," Foggy said. "She birthed me. She divorced my dad and abandoned me because we weren't good enough for her. My dad remarried and I stopped caring about Rosalind because I had a family and a real mom who loved me. I didn't need her."

"You never told me that," Matt said. "You could have said something. Why didn't you?"

"I don't know," Foggy said. "Because I didn't want you to look at me and see her, maybe? Because I never think about it, so I didn't see a reason to bring it up? It just didn't seem relevant to anything."

Matt sighed, taking in the new information that he had just learned about his best friend. "I don't know. It sounds very relevant," he said.

"Please don't psychoanalyze me, man," Foggy said.

"I'm not, I promise," said Matt. "I just think it speaks to your motivations for becoming a lawyer, don't you? To what we're doing here, together?"

"I guess," said Foggy.

"I wouldn't have pushed you so hard about leaving Lanman and Zack if I'd known, you know," Matt said.

"Well I'm really glad I never told you, then," Foggy said. "Because I love it here. You were right. And I didn't ask her to do that for me. She did it, and she attached all these expectations to it. Just like she always has."

"Well, she's wrong about you," Matt said. "You're an amazing lawyer. And a great son, just not to her because from what I heard she really doesn't deserve it. And I am really, really sorry I didn't leave it alone."

"Apology accepted," Foggy said.

"But," Matt said, just to get a little big of smugness in, "doesn't it feel good to clear the air? That secret must have just been eating away at you. All these years..."

"Shut up, Murdock!" Foggy said, standing up to give his friend a light punch in the arm. "Damn," he said as a wave of dizziness hit him, "this is what I get for drinking alone. Time to get back to work, don't you think?"

And just like that, everything went back to normal. Well, except for the new appreciation that Matt had for Mrs. Nelson. If he loved her before, well he really loved her now. And he was thankful that nature, in Foggy's case, seemed to have crumbled under the weight of all the nurture in his life.


	3. Maggie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Foggy gets some bad news at the holidays, Matt tries to cheer him up by sharing something with him. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this continues on from the last chapter, and again this is a comic book universe/MCU fusion. 
> 
> You don't really need to know anything about Matt's mom from the comics to enjoy it (in fact, she's barely been in it anyway which is kind of ridiculous), and I can't say for sure if it's a show spoiler or not because who knows if the show will go that way.
> 
> Enjoy!

It was December 22nd and the holiday spirit was in full swing in Hell's Kitchen, an overwhelming sense of good cheer and happiness that washed over Matt like a unrelenting tidal wave of sensations as it did every year. The unending snippets of the various Christmas carols coming from every apartment window, car radio and street corner. The fragrant smells of Poinsettias, rich chocolate, pine trees and mint that he could taste on his tongue with every deep breath. The hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers buying presents at the last minute. Sleigh bells ringing, children singing, all that was supposed to be merry and bright.

It used to make Matt depressed and lonely. For years, Christmas had been a bleak reminder of everything he didn't have, of all the people who had left him.

But not now. Now, he looked forward to it every year. Because now, Christmas meant the Nelsons. It meant gathering in a tiny living room with more people than could comfortably fit and experiencing what it meant to be part of a family. The Nelsons had embraced Matt like one of their own from the moment Foggy had brought him home that first year. He had become an expected part of the holidays for them, the family friend who knew all the cousins (even the ones once or twice removed), was counted on to lend a hand in snowball fights and build pillow forts with the nieces and nephews, and was the designated cookie cutter and spoon licker as the older women baked and gossiped. Christmas with the Nelsons meant opening presents under the tree with his name on them, and drinking candy cane flavoured hot chocolate under a blanket on the couch near the fireplace with wide-eyed children at his feet, listening to the baritone voice of Boris Karloff rant about the Grinch's meanness while Foggy narrated as best he could next to him. Christmas was one of the only times during the year when Matt felt normal and like he had a home.

So it was with no small measure of joy in his heart that Matt sat at his desk wearing a Santa hat, humming Let it Snow happily as he stuck scotch tape to the wrapping paper and folded the corners over attempting to make his gift to Foggy's dad presentable.

The door opened and Karen entered with donuts, laughing at the sight in front of her. "Wow," she said with great amusement. "I wasn't expecting this. For some reason I never pictured you as a person who embraced the Christmas spirit, Matt."

"Oh?" Matt asked.

"You're just not usually so..." Karen trailed off.

"Merry," said Foggy, stepping into his office doorway drinking his coffee.

"Exactly!" said Karen. "You're very merry today, Matt. It's nice." She laughed again.

"Well thank you, Karen," Matt said. "It is Christmas."

"Also," said Foggy, "she's laughing because she doesn't know how to tell you that you have wrapped that gift inside out. Again."

"Seriously?" Matt asked, beginning to tear the paper off and begin again. "I thought I had it this time."

"Sorry," said Karen. "I didn't know if I should say anything or not."

"It's fine, Karen," Foggy said, picking up his cell phone as it buzzed in his pocket to answer it. "It doesn't matter anyway. My family is used to it by now. One year, my mom got a lotion basket she really loved wrapped in paper that said It's a Boy! I think she just liked the fact that she didn't have to try and decipher Matt's handwriting to know it was from him."

"Ha ha ha," Matt said sarcastically, "You're so funny. Karen, can you help me make sure I've got it right this time?" he asked, and Karen moved to help him as Foggy took his call. "Hi mom," they both heard as he moved back into his own office.

As Karen helped Matt with the wrapping paper, she was concerned as she watched Matt's good mood quickly fade until suddenly he stopped wrapping altogether and clutched her hand, stopping her as well. "It's okay actually, Karen," he said seriously. "You don't have to..."

They were interrupted as Foggy reappeared from his office, his expression also serious. "What's wrong?" Karen asked.

"My grandmother is sick," said Foggy.

"Oh Foggy!" Karen said, sympathy in her voice. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," said Foggy. "Well, she's been pretty out of it for a while now, you know? And the doctors don't think she has much longer. So my mom and dad are driving up to Boston where she's been living to be with her. Which means..."

"No Christmas," said Matt.

"No Christmas," said Foggy. "Everyone's gathering up there who can make it, and the rest have just decided to stay close to home this year. I can't really afford the trip out to Boston right now on this short notice, especially if I've got to save enough to head out there for the funeral at some point soon. So it looks like it's just the three of us, this year."

"I'm going out of town, actually," Karen said. "I have plans with some old friends. I'm sorry. I can call and cancel though, if you need me?"

"Oh?" asked Foggy. "Of course, We should have figured that. No, don't cancel your plans Karen. We'll be alright, right Matt?"

"Yeah," said Matt. "We'll be fine. Foggy, are you okay?"

"I'm good. I'm good. Just..." Foggy trailed off. "I'll be good." He wandered back into his office, shutting the door behind him.

The rest of the workday passed in silence and solemnity as the three of them finished all of their preparations to shut the office down for the holidays.

Finally, Karen said her goodbyes to Matt and Foggy, leaving them with two small presents and instructions to not open them until Christmas.

"Are you sure?" Foggy asked. "Don't you want to see the look on our faces?"

"I will get to see you when I get back and know what you thought then," Karen said. "But I want you to save them. You should have something to open on Christmas morning."

They thanked her, and hugged. Then, she left, leaving them alone together to close up the office.

Foggy sighed heavily and slumped against the wall. "I'm sorry, Matt," he said sadly. "I know how much you look forward to Christmas."

Matt leaned next to Foggy and wrapped an arm around him. "I'm not the one you should be worrying about right now, Foggy," he said. "I just hope your parents aren't too upset and your grandmother is okay."

"Me too. Dammit," Foggy said, banging his head against the wall. "What am I gonna do? I mean, it's Christmas. I know what I want to do. I want to get really, really drunk. But that would just make me feel so much worse in the end."

"Trust me," said Matt. "It would."

They stood there for a moment in silence before an idea occurred to Matt. "Maybe it's time I shared something with you for Christmas for once," he finally said.

"What?" Foggy asked.

"Come to church with me," Matt said. "There's someone I want to introduce you to."

"I don't know," Foggy said. "I'm not Catholic. It might be a little weird for me."

"Please," Matt said. And so Foggy agreed.

They grabbed their coat, hats and scarves, and left the office, making their way through the crush of people together. Foggy was surprised when he realized that they were heading in the opposite direction of what he knew was Matt's usual church. "Matt," he asked, "where are we going?"

"You'll see," Matt replied.

"Well that's mysterious," said Foggy. Matt just kept leading him towards their destination.

Finally, they came to a large church Foggy had never seen before with a sign advertising a holiday soup kitchen. Matt led them inside where a group of nuns were gathered. Matt asked Foggy to wait for a moment while he went to talk to one of the nuns, who Matt embraced with a hug. This surprised Foggy, as he very rarely saw Matt hug anyone with that much affection. The pair came over to where Foggy was waiting.

Matt took a deep breath, and Foggy realized that he was nervous. "Foggy Nelson, this is Maggie," he said, introducing the woman next to him.

"Okay," Foggy said, extending his hand. "It's nice to meet you Maggie. I'm still not sure why I'm here. Are you one of the nuns who raised Matt? Because he's always been very secretive about his childhood with me."

"No, Mr. Nelson," Maggie said, taking his hand in hers but not shaking it. "I'm not."

"Foggy," Matt said, "Maggie is my mother."

Foggy withdrew his hand like it had been burned and looked at Maggie suspiciously. "Ummm..." he said, unsure what to say, "Okay. Matt, can I talk to you for just a minute over there by that pew?"

Matt followed until Foggy suspected that they were out of Maggie's earshot. "A little rude, Fog, don't you think?" Matt asked.

"A little rude?" Foggy asked. "Matt, have you lost your mind? Your mother is dead. She died when you were born."

"I know, Foggy, that's what I thought too," Matt said, "but the truth is more complicated than that."

"More complicated? I don't understand. Why do you think this nun is your mom?" Foggy asked, disbelieving.

"I don't think. I know. I just..." Matt struggled to explain. "My dad was never big on the details when I was a kid. He told me she was dead, but we never really talked about her. There was no grave site. No way for me to be certain of who she was or what happened to her. When I got into my accident, a woman came to visit me in the hospital. I remembered her so clearly. She was kind and had a presence that I couldn't explain. Maggie saved me, Foggy, one night when I was in trouble on the streets as Daredevil. She took me in and I just knew it was the same woman. And she confirmed it. Foggy, I know this sounds crazy. But it's true. I promise you. My mother is alive. And she's standing right over there."

"How long have you known about this? Why didn't you tell me?" Foggy asked. "I thought we were past the point of keeping secrets from one another. Matt, this is huge."

"I only learned about a year ago. I wasn't sure how to deal with it," Matt said. "I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure how I felt about it."

"And how do you feel about it?" Foggy asked, still having difficulty comprehending everything his friend was telling him.

"Like I finally have family to call my own," Matt said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. But I'm really happy you're here now. I'd like you to get to know her."

"Okay," said Foggy. "If it's that important to you, then I'm here for you."

The pair walked back over towards Maggie, who by this point was talking to the other nuns again. "Sorry about that, sister," Foggy said. "Matt didn't really tell me who he was bringing me here to meet. It took me by surprise."

"Oh, that's all right Mr. Nelson," she said. "Matthew's arrival here has been a pleasant surprise to me as well. But I'm glad you're both here. We could certainly use the volunteers."

"Volunteers?" Foggy asked.

"For the soup kitchen, dear," Maggie said. "'Tis the season, after all."

Foggy looked over to see Matt smiling at him, and got the feeling that saying no to helping out would feel a bit like kicking a puppy at this point. "Sure," he said, not sure what else to do. "'Tis the season."

And so the pair were brought into the kitchen and quickly taught how to stir and serve. Foggy couldn't help but notice that Maggie wasn't exactly going out of her way to call special attention to their presence. In fact, he was fairly certain that the other nuns weren't even aware that they were in the presence of their fellow nun's son. Although, to be fair, Foggy couldn't remember whether nuns were supposed to be celibate their entire lives or not and wasn't sure if Maggie had broken some commandment or oath by having a son to begin with. It didn't make him feel any better about her.

The soup kitchen opened, and soon everyone was busy as the homeless and poor of the neighborhood filed in. At one point, Foggy found himself working next to Maggie.

"So, Maggie," he asked, tentatively. "Do you have any questions for me, maybe? About Matt? Anything you wanna know?"

Maggie didn't seem at all interested in speaking to him. "No, dear," she said. And that was the end of the conversation.

"Okay," Foggy said. "Got any stories for me? About Matt as a baby? Or about Battlin' Jack? Matt's pretty tight-lipped usually, but he's told me a few good ones and I bet yours are better."

Maggie just looked perturbed by the questions. "No," she said, and then made an excuse to work in another area assisting someone else.

As Foggy observed her, he realized that she wasn't interacting with Matt that much more than him. But he loved his friend, and so he didn't say anything.

Finally, the soup kitchen closed and the crowd thinned. Matt made his way over to Foggy and gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder, smiling. "So thank you so much for doing that. I feel bad that I sprung it on you. But, it has got to make you feel a lot better than getting drunk would have, right?"

"It does," Foggy admitted. "I am feeling the whole goodwill towards men vibe of the season a little more right now, I've got to say."

"Glad to hear it," Matt said. "And I was thinking that maybe I could crash at your place tonight? I won't go out, I promise. I think Christmas even makes the criminals feel more charitable anyway, so I'm happy to stay in with you. We can see if there are any holiday movies on TV? Maybe have some hot chocolate?"

"Sure," Foggy said smiling, "But don't you want to visit with Maggie a little more? You've barely spent any time with her since we got here."

"It's not really that kind of a relationship, Foggy," Matt said, and Foggy could hear the sadness in his voice even if he knew nobody else would be able to because it was so well-hidden.

"Right," Foggy said.

Matt asked Foggy to wait for a moment, and Foggy's heart broke as he watched Matt pull a poorly wrapped gift from his briefcase and pass it to Maggie with a hug. The gift exchange appeared to be one way.

That was when Foggy decided he'd had enough.

He marched towards them, interrupting the moment. "I thought nuns were supposed to be charitable and kind? No gift for your own son at Christmas, Maggie?"

"Foggy, what the hell?" asked Matt. "Sorry, Maggie."

"Why on Earth are you sorry, Matt? What do you have to be sorry about?"

"Foggy," Matt said quietly, visibly upset. "Please don't do this."

"Is Maggie sorry?" Foggy continued, "For abandoning you to a life of poverty raised by a guy who let people beat on him for a living? For apparently knowing that you were blinded in a terrible accident and letting you think you were an orphan rather than step up and take responsibility for her actions? For missing every birthday and every Christmas and every graduation? Is she sorry for having absolutely nothing to do with the man you are today? Are you sorry for any of that, lady? Because I'm really not getting that vibe. In fact, I'm betting that you spend every day in this church thinking that you can somehow ask God for forgiveness and that will make it okay, that being a nun makes you a good person, but it doesn't and it will never be okay and you have no idea what you lost."

Maggie simply turned and walked away. Foggy stormed out in anger.

As he burst out of the doors of the church and into the cold December air, the full force of what he had just said hit him. Where had that even come from? He had raged at a nun. In a church. At Christmas. He still felt like she deserved it, but he knew that he had just crushed his friend, and he was certain that he was probably also going to hell.

"Foggy!" he heard, and Matt ran out after him, cane not even tapping on the ground to keep up the illusion he needed it.

"I'm sorry," Foggy said. "I don't know what came over me, Matt, really. But I stand by what I said. I just can't believe that she could have done what she did and expect to ever be forgiven, or that you're not as mad as I am."

"Who says I'm not?" Matt asked.

Foggy laughed to himself. "Right," he said. "You just won't take it out on the person who deserves it. Some poor pedophile gets his skull caved in instead at some point. Is that how it works, then?"

"I don't know," said Matt. "Maybe. I shouldn't have introduced you. I don't know why I'm surprised that you don't understand. You have a mother who loves you."

"Do I?" asked Foggy. "I have a woman who loves me who I call mom, yes. Because she earned it. But the demon woman who birthed me sent me a passive aggressive Hanukkah card with a check in it for the sole purpose reminding me that I'm poor and not Jewish, and that is the extent of her presence in my life over the holidays. And at least she made some kind of effort for me growing up and didn't pretend she was dead. You don't have a mother, Matt. You have a woman who just wouldn't even acknowledge your presence in a room full of her friends or do anything at all to make you feel like she gave a shit."

"You're right," said Matt. "Maybe you do understand, after all. So what? What's your solution here, Foggy? To drive Maggie away so that I never get any closure or answers from her at all? Do you have any idea how many times growing up I wondered about her? I used to look in the mirror, back when I could look in the mirror, and examine myself. I would try to look for the parts that were my dad and wonder if the parts that weren't from him came from her. I would imagine who she was and think about who I wanted to be and try to reconcile the two. Try to tell myself that my strength, my passion, all the qualities that I aspired to have were things that she had too. It made things easier. I know that you hate Rosalind, but don't kid yourself Foggy. If you thought for a second that she would have accepted a gift from you or wouldn't have insulted whatever you sent her, you would have sent her one."

"You're right," Foggy finally admitted. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded on Maggie like that. I don't have the right to speak for you like that. And if you want to work out your anger issues on muggers instead of her, well at least the neighborhood's safer that way, I guess."

"Thank you," said Matt.

"If it helps, I would be happy to let you call Rosalind and give her a piece of your mind if you want," Foggy said.

"I may take you up on that someday," Matt said. "Maggie's not too upset, by the way. She told me that nothing you said was anything she hasn't been expecting from me, and she was a little more sympathetic when I told her that you also did just find out that your grandmother is dying."

"Oh, yeah," Foggy said. "Ugh, this Christmas sucks!"

"I agree. But, we've still got time to make it better. It's only the 22nd! Your apartment awaits!" Matt extended his elbow and Foggy clutched him gently. The pair headed down the street towards Foggy's apartment.

"You know, your grandmother is a great woman," Matt said, "Remember that story she told us last Thanksgiving about the dance marathon?"

"Oh yeah," Foggy said. "My dad had to talk her out of breaking a hip while demonstrating the Charleston for everyone!"

As they walked, they reminisced. And it turned out that even without the rest of the Nelson clan, they still had a merry Christmas. They still sat on Foggy's couch under a blanket, they still watched How The Grinch Stole Christmas, and they still drank candy cane flavoured hot chocolate. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.


	4. The Butcher Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy tells the story about how his mother always wanted him to be a butcher often. But the people who hear it are usually missing a key piece of context for what it really means to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't going to continue this, but then angst just grabbed me and wouldn't let go. 
> 
> This is unbeta'd and pretty rough, so please read with understanding. :)

Matt knew that something was wrong even before he stepped into the office. It wasn't even his heightened senses that told him, but rather a gut feeling he'd had when he'd woken up that morning, a shadow long and dark cast over the day before it even began that he couldn't explain.

He woke up late, his alarm silent. It was past noon, and he was late. It disconcerted him, made him feel off-balance.

Then, in the stairwell as he made his way up through the building to their office door, he registered sobbing. Foggy's sobbing. Something was very wrong.

He ignored Karen's surprise when he burst through the door, cane in his hand but forgotten about, yet all obstacles between him and his friend disregarded. When he entered Foggy's office, the man was slumped over his desk, a bottle of whiskey well on the way towards being emptied next to him.

"Foggy..." Matt said sadly, "What happened?"

"My mom," Foggy said, his words slurred. "She... she had a stroke last night. She's in the ICU down at Mount Sinai. Critical condition."

Matt registered a gasp as Karen moved into the office behind him.

"Oh," said Matt, his own tears welling up and a sob caught in his throat. "I'm so... my God... You shouldn't be here. Why aren't you there, Foggy? You should go be with your family, be there for you dad. We'll both go. Come on." He tried to assist his friend with standing up so that they could make their way to the door.

"No!" Foggy said, belligerent and clearly drunk. "I can't. All that waiting. I was there all night. Hoping. It was all just... I don't want to be there. Is that okay? Is that allowed?"

"Of course," Matt said. "We're here for you, Foggy. Karen and I." He gestured to Karen and she moved to remove the bottle of whiskey from the desk and hide it somewhere. Drinking was fun when they were celebrating a win, but Matt had watched Foggy drown sadness in it too many times to want to watch him handle this that way.

They sat for a few minutes, the three of them, with Karen rubbing Foggy's back as he wept and Matt crying softly, before Foggy spoke again.

"She wanted me to be a butcher," Foggy said.

"We know," Matt said. "You love telling that story."

"No," said Foggy. "You don't know. I never tell it properly. I never tell the truth."

Karen looked at Matt, curiosity in her eyes. Matt wished that he could will her telepathically somehow to not ask the question, but knew she would because that was who she was.

"What's the truth, Foggy?" she asked. "You can tell us."

"When I was eight, we had a career day at school. You know how it goes. All the children's parents came to talk about what they do. My dad couldn't make it because somebody had to run the store. My mom offered to come and talk about owning a business on his behalf, because it was her store too, you know? But I told her no. I wanted Rosalind to come."

"Rosalind?" Karen asked.

Matt wasn't sure if Foggy would regret Karen knowing everything once he was sober, but he felt an obligation to fill in the details of the story that Foggy was too drunk to provide. "His birth mother," Matt said. "She left and his father remarried Anna when Foggy was five."

"Did Rosalind come, then?" Karen asked.

"No," Foggy said. "My dad tried to schedule the appointment with her assistant, because they didn't talk in person. But I guess the assistant said she didn't have time. Mom explained to me that she would be happy to do it, but I couldn't let it go. I wanted everyone in my class to hear about how educated and powerful Rosalind was. Every other kid was bringing someone to talk who was... I don't know... blue collar. From the neighborhood. They all had parents who were cops, or owned stores like my parents, or worked in factories. Finally, I got up the nerve to call and ask her myself. She told me that her time was worth more than a day spent explaining what she did to children and making construction paper dioramas. That I should know better than to ask. That she certainly didn't want to come talk about what she did in a room full of parents who would then probably expect her to take on their various criminal cases pro bono and whine about privilege and the welfare system."

"That's rude," Karen said.

"Be thankful you've never met her," said Matt.

Foggy snorted in response to that, and continued. "That's not even the worst part," Foggy said.

"What's the worst part?" Karen asked.

"I ended up with nobody there. And I spent the day listening to all my other classmates parents talk. When I got home, mom asked me how it went. So I told her. Some of the other kids parents were interesting. Felix Leary's dad was a butcher, and that was the one I thought sounded cool. So she told me that I should do that. That she thought I would be a great butcher. And I just..." Foggy's breath hitched in his throat. "I got really mad at her for saying that. I told her I didn't want to be a butcher, that I would never want to do a job so dirty and where you would spend every day covered in blood and guts. That I wanted to be something important. That I wanted to be a lawyer. And her face just fell. I still remember it, to this day. At the time, I didn't care. For a long time after, I didn't, in fact I was defiant in my not caring. But I knew that she looked at me in that moment and saw Rosalind. That as much as I was always her son..." Foggy broke down and couldn't continue.

"Foggy, it's okay," Matt said. He rubbed his friend's back and pulled him into an awkward half-hug with the desk in the way, let him sob on her shoulder. "Your mother loves you so much. The biology of it doesn't matter. You know that."

"I know," Foggy said. "I know. I just don't know what I'll do without her. I can't imagine who I would be if it wasn't for her."

"You don't have to," Matt said, thinking about his own childhood without a mother, about all the times that he had laid in his bed in the orphanage and wished so much for one. "Be thankful for that, Foggy. You did have her, and now she's sick but I'm sure that you'll still have her. She'll be fine. She's strong. She'll pull through. But now I think she needs you. So what do you say you drink some coffee, and we head back to the hospital and make sure that your dad and sister are doing okay, alright? I think that's what she would want, don't you?"

"You're right," Foggy said, sniffling. "What am I doing?"

"It's okay," Matt said. "Everything will be okay."

Karen made Foggy a strong cup of coffee. And he sobered up. And they did go to the hospital. And Foggy's mother recovered, but her speech was a bit slurred, her movements a bit difficult on her left side after that. But everything was okay. Matt and Foggy visited her more often after that. And Foggy still told the butcher story to people, because in the end he was proud of who he was. Both the parts that were Anna and the parts that were Rosalind too.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Tumblr found at http://enthusiasmgirl.tumblr.com.
> 
> I also LOVE comments. They are my favourite thing in the universe so please leave some if you are so inclined.


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